


Furore

by anarchistslullaby



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: And Fred has to be number one, And goes on a journey of inflicting as much chaos as he can, And reading ridiculous muggle literature, And showing off, But Fred doesn't die, Fred has too much free time on his hands, Fred loves lying, Gen, I just mentioned them because I like knowing what ships are in stories, Otherwise what's the use, Rita Skeeter refuses to ship Dramione, The War Happened, The ships aren't really very important, Witch Weekly has a biennial list of most eligible bachelors, With the unwitting help of journalism and Rita Skeeter, obviously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 20:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20748242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anarchistslullaby/pseuds/anarchistslullaby
Summary: It starts with an article misquoting Fred, leading to his discovery of Witch Weekly's biennial List of Most Eligible Bachelors (and the fact that he is considered one of them) and general wizarding journalism, particularly tabloids, Fred undertakes two missions:1. Become the MOST Eligible Bachelor on the list, employing whatever measures needed to do so.2. Cause as much journalistic (if one considers celebrity gossip journalism) chaos as possible, with the unwitting and unsuspecting help of Rita Skeeter.





	Furore

‘Fred! Fred!’ came Ginny’s voice from the room at the back of the shop, where she had presumably flooed in. It was the quidditch off-season, and Fred hadn’t seen his sister awake this early since she had come home.

‘Over here!’ yelled Fred, from where he was stocking skiving snackboxes. It was already that time of year at Hogwarts.

Ginny rushed to her brother’s side with alarming urgency. 

Fred frowned. ‘Everything alright, Gin?’ he asked, worried.

In response, his sister only brandished a copy of the Daily Prophet at him. Fred took the newspaper from her, bemused, and looked at the page she had opened. Right on top, was the headline  _ SECRET FAMILY? IS WITCH WEEKLY'S FOURTH MOST ELIGIBLE BACHELOR SINGLE NO LONGER? _

Under the headline was a picture of him with his niece Victoire, helping her onto a kiddy broom, something that his mother had forbidden him from doing. He was in trouble now. Wait a second...

‘Fourth?’ said Fred.

‘I heard cameras yesterday, but I thought I imagined them,’ said Ginny. ‘Harry and I were sure that Rita Skeeter somehow found out!’

'Found out what?’ asked Fred, still confused. 

Ginny pursed her lips. ‘Don’t tell anyone,’ she said. 'Because Mum will be furious if she finds out someone knew before she did.’

‘I’m listening,’ said Fred. 

'Harry proposed last night,’ said Ginny. 

‘Oh wow, Gin,’ said Fred. ‘ _ Engaged?  _ Wouldn't want the whole of Britain knowing before Mum, I guess.’

'You haven't been reading the papers, have you?’ Ginny asked him.

Fred shook his head. 

‘That’s probably for the best,’ said Ginny, sounding exasperated. ‘Fred, they’re still as obsessed with Harry as when we were at Hogwarts! We’re lucky they haven’t found Grimmauld Place.’

‘There’s one thing I don’t understand,’ said Fred. ‘It’s incredibly important. What does this mean, fourth most eligible bachelor?’

Ginny sighed.

* * *

‘They put that git Lockhart in the list?` said Fred. ‘He’s a permanent resident of St Mungo’s! His brain is broken! He doesn’t deserve to be seventh!’

‘At least he’s not above you, mate,’ said Ron.

Ginny had presented the Witch Weekly article to her brother later that evening after work at the Burrow, with all their siblings (sans George, who was out on a date with Angelina; Fleur and Bill, who were abroad; and their parents, who were having dinner with his mother’s aunt Muriel). Needless to say, Fred was affronted at some of the people in it (and amazed he had missed such a thing; he needed to read more).

‘Well, there’s a conspiracy going around that Lockhart isn’t actually in St Mungo’s. He’s actually a spy,’ mentioned Charlie from where he was sat on a sofa, Victoire fast asleep with her head in his lap.

‘You’re in Romania where you don’t even get British newspapers,’ said Ron. ‘How’d you know that?’

Charlie shrugged good-naturedly. ‘I like to keep informed,’ he said, using his wand to levitate a blanket over Victoire.

‘Aleksander Nguyen, I understand,’ said Fred. ‘He’s a bloody good quidditch player, not that Ginny can’t beat him. BUT that still doesn’t mean he’s first. I’m much better looking, and don’t have any mind-addling permanent sports injuries.’

‘He doesn’t have any permanent sports injuries, Fred,’ said Ginny.

‘Who else is on it?’ asked Charlie at the same time, as both Harry and George attempted to stop Teddy from trying to wake Victoire to play. He was very upset and determined to wake his friend, no matter how much all the adults in the room tired to tell him she was sleeping.

‘Blaise Zabini,’ said Fred, reading off the magazine. Half the room snorted. ‘And he’s third!’ He made a face. ‘His dear mummy’s reputation precedes him, making him even more attractive!’

‘The fact that his mother’s wealthy husbands all died, leaving her lots of money would actively discourage me from dating him,’ muttered Hermione, as Teddy finally relented and sat down with a colouring book and crayons that Harry presented him with. ‘Rather than make him even more attractive.’

‘EXACTLY!’ yelled Fred, with more force than necessary. 

‘SHHH’ said everyone in the room, motioning to Victoire. His niece could sleep through noise, but not with him yelling at the top of his lungs.

‘Shhh,’ added Teddy, looking more chastising than Fred could have ever expected a four year old to look.

‘Who’s second?’ asked Ron, sounding curious. 

‘Draco Malfoy,’ said Ginny, answering for Fred.

Ron groaned. ‘That ferret!’ he said. ‘Whoever wrote this had one too many drinks.’

‘Who else?’ asked Percy, from the corner of the room. He had been busy writing something, and no one had thought he was listening.

‘Another quidditch player,’ said Fred. ‘But it doesn’t matter, Perce. The writer is clearly misguided. I should be number one. The only one who compares to me is George, and we all know I’m the better-looking twin.’

‘Do we, now?’ asked Charlie. 

Fred, like the mature adult and business owner that he was, struck his tongue out at his older brother.

‘So my mission is to become the most eligible bachelor,’ announced Fred. ‘In order to do that, my competitors must be in relationships.’

‘I don’t think anyone would date Lockhart, Fred,’ said Ginny, making a face. 

‘Yeah, but he’s old and he can’t compete with me,’ said Fred, as Harry checked his watch and told Teddy it was time for Harry to take him back home.

Teddy made a loud sound of protest, loudly enough to wake Victoire, who started to cry. Teddy, delighted his friend was awake, protested leaving even more, while Victoire would not stop crying. The Witch Weekly article was forgotten as everyone scrambled to calm both children, but Fred had already concocted a plan to both become the most eligible bachelor.

* * *

The sun was shining down on Fred. He was at the Ministry on an important job with George, when he bumped into Rita Skeeter in the elevator.

‘Why, Rita!’ exclaimed Fred. ‘Just the witch I was looking for! I was hoping to run into you. I need to correct one of your articles.’

‘Correct one of my articles?’ asked Rita Skeeter. ‘I will have you know, Mr Weasley, that I only use the most reputable of sources when writing my articles.’

‘Well, one of the must have been wrong,’ said Fred. When had Skeeter’s quick-quotes quill come out of her bag and started writing. ‘I am well and truly untethered. No children or significant others of any sort. That child I was photographed was with my niece.’

‘I find that hard to believe,’ said Rita. ‘I have sources that say you are in a romantic relationship with Angelina Johnson, the quidditch star.’

‘That would be my twin brother, George,’ countered Fred. ‘We look very alike, but I am certainly the better-looking one of the two. Of all my siblings, if I do say so myself.’

‘Hmm,’ said Rita Skeeter. ‘Do you deny that the two of you went out to the Yule Ball in your fourth year at Hogwarts?’

‘I don’t,’ said Fred cheerfully. ‘But there was no romantic entanglement. I was only encouraging my twin brother to come to terms with his feelings for Angelina, and do something about it.’

‘I see,’ said Rita Skeeter. Did her quill never stop writing? ‘But there must have been someone else for you. Otherwise, it sounds like a feeble attempt to hide that Miss Johnson decided your brother was the better twin.’

Fred sighed dramatically, one hand on his heart and the other pushing his hair back. ‘Why Rita, how could you possibly have guessed?’ he implored. ‘I was too nervous and thought I was too immature to go out with someone like them.’

Rita leered at him. ‘And don’t you think,’ she said. ‘That whoever she is, wouldn’t she have taken you and Angelina going together to the Yule ball as a sign you weren’t interested in her.’

‘It was obvious to most of Hogwarts that Angelina and George were completely head over heels for one another, they needed a little push to admit it,’ said Fred. ‘My crush should have known.’

‘I see,’ said Rita, looking somewhat put-off, as if Fred hadn’t given her enough salacious stories, though Fred suspected no one could. ‘You still haven’t told me who your crush is, or denied the fact that you are in a relationship.’

Fred grinned. ‘I will be in the next list of eligible bachelors, I’m afraid,’ he said, trying to sound as upset as he could. ‘And as for the love of my life, well, you’re the journalist Rita. I trust you’ll figure it out.’

With that, Fred rushed to Percy’s floor, where George was already waiting for him. He and his twin had important work to do, after all.

* * *

‘Mum’s not too pleased with you,’ Fred was informed by Bill, who answered the door to the Burrow, where Fred had arrived for Sunday dinner.

Fed grinned innocently. ‘I can’t imagine why,’ he said. ‘I’m her favourite, and I’ve been nothing but a perfect angel.’

Bill snorted, but moved aside so Fred could enter his parents’ house.

Inside were George, his father, Harry, Ron and Hermione (the two of them had broken up more than two years ago, but his mother, bless her, was still hopeful that they would get back together), and his mother, with Victoire in her arms. 

Molly’s face turned to the door, and as soon as she spotted Fred, the smile fell off her face. Handing her granddaughter to Ron, she thundered to the door before Fred managed to enter the house. 

‘Fredrick Gideon Weasley!’ she yelled, brandishing a copy of Witch Weekly. ‘Explain yourself.’

Fred grinned, having read the article the day before. He shrugged. ‘It isn’t my fault,’ he said. ‘Rita Skeeter was being very rude about George and Angelina’s relationship.’

Molly’s face softened slightly, but Fred knew he wasn’t going to be let off so easily. ‘That doesn’t explain why there is a spread about you,’ said Molly, voice rising with every word. ‘Speculating about your relationship with ten different people. _ Ten _ .’ 

‘ _ Ten? _ ’ came his father’s voice, sounding rather shocked.

‘I may have told Rita Skeeter,’ there was a collective groan in the living room. ‘That I was actually interested in someone else, and I only asked Angelina to the Yule Ball to make George finally ask her out. She seemed to think there was some kind of sordid love triangle between the three of us.’

His mother pursed her lips. ‘That still doesn’t explain why you needed to say anything to that..woman in the first place,’ she said, as Bill took the magazine from his mother.

‘Jennie Wilson, former classmate; Katie Bell, former quidditch teammate and classmate,’ he read aloud.

‘Why are they always so obsessed with quidditch romances?’ said Fred.

‘Worked for me, didn’t it?’ winked George, taking the crayon Victoire was offering him.

‘You’re welcome, mate,’ said Fred.

‘ _ Hermione Granger _ ,’ read Bill, incredulously, after two more people Fred hadn’t seen since he left Hogwarts.

‘What?’ said Hermione, sharply, looking up from the sofa. She, Harry and Ron had been helping Victoire colour in a colouring book, and had been completely content to not bother herself with what Witch Weekly thought of Fred. 

‘Well, well, well, Miss Granger,’ said George, teasingly, having read the article as well. ‘You and Ronniekins have been broken up for a few years now, and you  _ are  _ often in Freddie’s company.’

‘George!’ protested Ron, while Hermione looked aghast, shook her head and went back to colouring with Victoire.

‘Pansy Parkinson,’ continued Bill. ‘There’s a picture as well, but it’s actually Ron, not Fred.’ 

At this, everyone in the room turned to look at the youngest Weasley brother. 

‘Something you’d like to tell us, mate?’ asked Harry.

‘It was an accident!’ protested Ron. ‘We were set up!’

‘Who on earth set you up with Pansy Parkinson?’ asked Hermione, aghast.

‘Luna,’ replied Ron, sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘She and Daphne are friends, and Daphne’s friends with Pansy..’

‘I’m not exactly sure who Pansy Parkinson is,’ said Bill. ‘But why on earth would you ask Luna Lovegood to set you up on a date?’

Ron shrugged. 

‘Lee Jordan,’ said Bill, a minute later, back to reading. George cackled, setting off half the room. Even Victoire joined in, despite having no idea what everyone seemed to be laughing about. Being two years old sounded nice. Fred had to admit that the idea of him and Lee together was laughable, though.

‘Quidditch star August Edgeliffe,’ Bill read the last name. ‘I didn’t know you knew him.’

‘We didn’t,’ answered George. ‘He graduated before we joined the Gryffindor quidditch team.’

‘You still haven’t told us,’ pointed out Ron. ‘Who the “love of your life” is.’

‘I wouldn’t say the love of my life,’ said Fred. ‘But I did have a crush on McGonagall.’

‘ _ Minerva? _ ’ said Molly, sounding horrified. 

Fred shrugged. ‘It was a naive, young schoolboy crush, Mum,’ he said. 

‘At this point I wouldn’t be surprised if Audrey and Fleur’s names were also in this article,’ remarked Arthur. ‘Speaking of Fleur, how is her grandfather doing?’

‘Better than yesterday,’ said Bill.

‘Weren’t Percy and Audrey supposed to coming today as well?’ asked George.

At the exact moment, Percy stormed into the Burrow, not even bothering to knock on the door. Fred’s older brother looked exactly like his mother had when she thought Fred was juggling a plethora of romantic partners. He was followed inside by Audrey, who did not seem angry at all, but rather amused. Fred knew there was a reason he liked her; he wasn’t sure how she liked Percy though, but he didn’t need to understand love and relationships. He was on a mission to become the most eligible bachelor, after all.

Unfortunately, Percy’s grievance with him and George was more well-deserved. His brother had somehow found out that the two of them had taken polyjuice potion (in Fred’s case) and used their new appearance-changing merchandise (in George’s case) to impersonate Audrey’s parents, and forbade Percy from seeing her.

In their defense, it was Percy’s fault he was fooled. He’d been dating Audrey for half a year and still hadn’t met her parents. So what if they lived abroad? 

‘So how’d you figure it out?’ asked Ron, after Percy was finally done yelling, his face completely red, to match his hair.

‘Audrey was having lunch with her mother,’ said Percy.

‘It was funny, though,’ said Audrey, winking at him and George.

‘ _ Audrey! _ ’ said Percy, looking pained. 

* * *

Fred had had a rather good year. The new appearance-changing merchandise had been perfected, and was flying off the shelves. His “friendship” with Rita Skeeter (the woman had literally called him “an anonymous source, my dear friend” because what was more credible than using a dear friend as a source for the news) was blooming; Fred’s “tidbits” of “news” were getting progressively more and more ridiculous and were outright lies, but Rita Skeeter would not stop publishing them. At times, Fred wondered if she had no limits to what she would publish, and it was his mission to find out. Among his favourites were:

  * The reason that illegal gambling shops hadn’t been shut down were because aurors owned them (Fred was _incredibly _glad that he had insisted on remaining anonymous because the aurors had ad words with Skeeter; not that she’d cared).
  * Neville Longbottom, war hero, was actually a Lestrange and his grandmother dyed his hair blonde to keep the ruse.
  * Oliver Wood was playing on two quidditch teams; officially Puddlemere United, and unofficially the Bellycastle Bats (under the name Penelope Gertrude Howell).
  * Dolores Umbridge had escaped Azkaban, and was living as the muggle vocalist Susan Boyle.

It was also time for the biennial list of Witch Weekly’s Most Eligible Bachelors, and Fred felt rather confident about his chances. Aleksander Nguyen hadn’t been playing as well as before; Zeparella Zabini’s newest husband had mysteriously disappeared, and the others didn’t seem to be much of a match. He was hoping to do something about Draco Malfoy.

Fred had apparated into Grimmauld Place, where all three of, as the Daily Prophet like to call them, the Golden Trio lived. Fred wasn’t sure what it was like living in the same house as your ex, but his brother Ron and Hermione hadn’t had much of a relationship. Then again, Fred had dated Bryony Nott for two years (shh, don’t tell her parents), and they were still the best of friends. 

‘Ron!’ bellowed Fred, pushing open the kitchen door. It was a Saturday, so his brother should have been at home. ‘RON--you’re not Ron.’

Fred found himself facing Hermione and a very red-faced Draco Malfoy, mid-snog.

Hermione turned to Fred, quickly buttoning the top two buttons of her dress. ‘Ron’s not here,’ she said, while Malfoy turned his back to Fred and also seemed to be buttoning up his robes. ‘He and Harry were called into work last night. Auror business.’ Malfoy looked like he couldn’t leave fast enough, the git.

Fred realised his luck. Very vocally, as he exited the kitchen, Fred jumped up into the air and whooped. Draco Malfoy wasn’t single anymore!

‘What the fuck, Weasley?’ asked Malfoy, emerging from the kitchen, broomstick in hand.

Fred couldn’t contain his glee, not that he was trying to. ‘It’s perfect!’ he exclaimed. ‘You won’t be in the list anymore!’

‘What?’ barked Malfoy, as Hermione looked thoroughly exasperated, well-aware of what Fred was referring to.

‘Why do you care if I’m single or not?’

Fred summoned the article, hearing an irritated ‘of course he has it on hand’ from Hermione, presenting it to Hermione Granger’s newest boyfriend. While Draco read the article, Hermione turned to Fred.

‘Even Ron and Harry don’t know about the two of us,’ she said, sighing.

‘Sneaking around, were you, while your two best friends are off keeping the wizarding world safe,’ teased Fred.

‘Then again,’ he continued. ‘If Ron knew, he would have told everyone by now. He’s nearly as bad of a gossip as Charlie; it’s why we keep him in Romania.’ Fred winked.

‘I was going to tell them soon,’ said Hermione.

‘Dearest Rita won’t believe it, anyway, even if the two of you snog in front of one another,’ informed Fred, well-used to the journalist by that point. ‘She’ll claim you’re both deceiving the wizarding world for a bit of cheap fame.’

Hermione rolled her eyes; Malfoy finished reading the article.

‘Weasley,  _ this _ ,’ he said. ‘Is the most ridiculous piece of rubbish writing I have ever read. And my mother found an eighteenth-century novel in the Malfoy library about the tender art of bloodsharing between lovers.’

‘That sounds like a vampire,’ said Hermione. Fred grinned; he was fond of muggle romantic literature. The more ridiculous, the better. And it was Hermione who introduced Ron, who introduced his mother, who lent it to Charlie, who passed it on to George, who lent it to him. It was time for Draco Malfoy to discover. 

‘What?’ said Draco. ‘Vampires don’t…’

‘But you  _ did  _ read it,’ said Fred merrily, gesturing to the Witch Weekly magazine. 

‘Fred wants to be first in the list,’ explained Hermione.

‘Why?’ demanded Malfoy, looking perplexed and frustrated. It made Fred so happy.

‘He’s been trying for a year now,’ said Hermione. ‘That, and he’s Rita Skeeter’s mystery source.

‘Mystery source?’ said Malfoy. “Like the article about Pansy and Weasley. Pansy was seething over it.’

‘They did date,’ pointed out Fred. Another favourite article of his. How Ron and Pansy Parkinson had decided to marry to further their pure bloodlines (which was the most ridiculous thing Fred had ever come up with, but Skeeter somehow believed it instantly), and had fallen into love. ‘And who am I to know if the two of them have matching tattoos and a cat together or not? I’m not their best friend.’

‘You’re Ron’s brother,’ pointed out Hermione.

Draco, at the same time: ‘Pansy’s allergic to cats.’ He sighed, looking as (if not more) baffled and exasperated as his girlfriend at Fred’s antics.

Fred shrugged, trying to remember why he was at Grimmauld Place in the first place.

‘Malfoy,’ he said. ‘I have the perfect idea! Since you seem so curious about vampires in muggle literature, I have the perfect book for you!’

…

Infuriatingly, Fred was  _ not _ the most eligible bachelor. Not even the second most. He was number three.  _ Three! _

‘At least you’re one higher than last time,’ commented Ron, who was visiting the shop with Harry. He looked at the magazine Fred had handed him, and groaned. ‘Malfoy, number one? I see him enough at home , and now I have to see the smarmy bastard’s face here too?’

‘Looks as if Witch Weekly doesn’t believe he’s taken,’ said Angelina, who was waiting for George.

Fred made a face. ‘I worked so hard too,’ he said. ‘But Hermione and Malfoy make for such an odd couple no one believes it. I should have tried to make it seem like he was dating someone else.’

‘As much as I’d like to never see the tosser again,’ said Ron, albeit grudgingly. ‘He and Hermione are actually really similar. Back me up, Harry.’

‘Oh,’ said Harry, looking up from some sort of muggle device in his hand. Fred ad no idea how something that almost fit the palm of his hand could be so interesting to him. He knew Angelina and Hermione had them too. ‘Uh, yeah. Malfoy’s weirdly a lot like Hermione.’

‘I should have told Rita that he and Ronniekins are together,’ mused Fred. ‘I mean, Malfoy’s at Grimmauld Place an awful lot, isn’t he?’

Angelina laughed, as Ron spluttered. Harry chose to keep his mouth shut.

‘It’s so foul and fantastical that Skeeter would believe it immediately,’ said George, walking towards them with a large stack of forms.

‘Thanks for the image, Fred,’ said Ron, having recovered from enough to speak. ‘I barely tolerate him as it is.’

‘Maybe I’ll help plan their wedding,’ said Fred, brightly.

Both Ron and Harry had twin looks of abject horror on their faces at the thought of such an ordeal.

‘That sounds like a bad prank, Freddie,’ said George. ‘No one Hermione’ll date him for that long.’

Fred shrugged, considering. 

‘Have a baby,’ suggested George, unhelpfully. To be fair, Angelina was pregnant.

‘I don’t think you qualify as a bachelor if you have children,’ pointed out Angelina, as George kissed her neck.

* * *

Unperturbed, full of energy and vigour, Fred embarked on his two year journey to popularity and earning the title of most eligible bachelor of them all.

He took to being casually photographed by the paparazzi with his ever-increasing nieces and nephews (bless the Weasley genes), always dressed in pristine clothing that no one had any business wearing in the vicinity of small children and their sticky hands.

Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes opened a highly popularised new location in Hogsmeade, followed by rumours of international expansion. Fred was interviewed by both Witch Weekly (during which he did nothing but lie through his teeth and look pretty) and the Quibbler (Xenophilius Lovegood, bless him, had no interest in anything related to Fred and his brother’s business, but instead on whether kneazles were being bred by the Albanian and Jamaican ministries to control everyone to use more eagle quills and buy more blackberries).

Unfortunately and somewhat unsurprisingly, Rita Skeeter refused to believe anything about Hermione and Malfoy. The woman had written that the quidditch player Damian Lawless’ was such a good beater for the Appleby Arrows due to the fact that he had enchanted a magical carpet to look like a broom, and would fly on it during matches. Fred had no part in the headline; he had no idea if he should have felt disappointed or relieved.

He was, however, responsible for numerous other publications. 

  * Madam Puddifoot (the owner of the tea shop at Hogsmeade) and Severus Snape had been lovers during their time at Hogwarts, and Snape had only accepted the position of potions master to be closer to her. Apparently she preferred men with hair so oily it shone and terrible personalities. 
  * No one had seen or heard from Warlock Hamish Abbott because he was dead, not living in France as everyone thought (Percy had given George a right telling off about it for fifteen minutes until Dominique decided to return his glasses). 
  * Celestina Warbeck wrote the Weird Sisters’ songs for them.
  * Harry Potter had lost his virginity on a broomstick. 
  * Madam Pince was a vampire, and was always in the library because it was dark all the time. Her unpleasantness and possessiveness of the library and its books were fuelled because of her bloodlust. She despised regular food but not as much as she detested the thought of drinking blood. It was also why she rarely ever attended feasts in the Great Hall at Hogwarts.
  * Lucius Malfoy had a knack for dancing in high heels (an ode to kinky boots, Fred’s favourite).
  * Among others.

All in all, it had been a rather productive two years. Fred expected to be number one in the wretched list, except that he was not. And it was his own damn fault.

* * *

‘Grandad, you were the one who told Rita Skeeter that Harry Potter and your sister Ginny broke up,’ said Fred’s grandson, who had heard the story many times before . ‘Two weeks before Witch Weekly released the list.’

‘It was a day after James was born,’ said Fred, cradling his great-granddaughter. ‘Who divorces a day after their son is born?’ He paused for a moment. ‘Harry was  not happy at the shirtless picture of him in Witch Weekly. He should have expected that when he became the most eligible bachelor.’

‘I don’t think he wanted to be in the list at all.’

‘I never got to be the most eligible bachelor,’ sighed Fred. He turned his great granddaughter in his lap, so that she faced him. ‘I should have put myself in the running the year after. I would have won too.’

‘You married very soon after that,’ pointed out his grandson, the buzzkill. ‘And were expecting a child when the list would have come out.’ He paused. ‘Then again, from what I’ve heard about Rita Skeeter or journalism from when you were my age, you  probably would have.’

‘I suppose I could have had a less public wedding,’ mused Fred. He tickled his great granddaughter, who giggled. “At least Malfoy is dead. I outlived the bastard.’

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I appreciate any and all feedback. You can find me on tumblr at: https://anarchistslullaby.tumblr.com/ :D


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